


Second Chance

by eternal_lights



Category: HOTSHOT (Band), JBJ (Band), Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Gen, OT6, Platonic Relationships, bordering on romantic towards the end, mentions of the other trainees, taehyuns journey through produce 101
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_lights/pseuds/eternal_lights
Summary: Noh Taehyun had pride. He had pride in his singing, his rapping, especially in his dancing. And he made it. His group made it. Maybe they weren’t as big as they had dreamed, but at least they were one under a same name, and not just six boys chasing a distant future. The thought of calling himself a trainee again scared him, traumatized him even. Why should he put himself back through the anguish and the misery? He made it, goddamnit, he made it.But when he found himself back in their tiny dorm, where even whispered words could be heard through the walls, when he stared at himself in the mirror of their gradually deteriorating practice room, where sweat and heavy breaths made the air feel heavy as the AC choked and sputtered, when he picked at his food that was hardly enough to fill him, he wondered if he was really just fooling himself.





	Second Chance

Noh Taehyun had pride. He had pride in his singing, his rapping, especially in his dancing. And he made it. His group made it. Maybe they weren’t as big as they had dreamed, but at least they were one under a same name, and not just six boys chasing a distant future. The thought of calling himself a trainee again scared him, traumatized him even. Why should he put himself back through the anguish and the misery? He made it, goddamnit, he made it.

But when he found himself back in their tiny dorm, where even whispered words could be heard through the walls, when he stared at himself in the mirror of their gradually deteriorating practice room, where sweat and heavy breaths made the air feel heavy as the AC choked and sputtered, when he picked at his food that was hardly enough to fill him, he wondered if he was really just fooling himself.

 

“Have you guys heard of Produce 101?”

The other five glanced up from their plates as Taehyun broke the silence of their dinner table.

“Of course,” Junhyuk looked at him curiously, “Why do you ask?”

Taehyun poked at his food with his chopsticks. He hated having to bring this up, or even having to consider it. It was almost shameful, and it ate at his pride. He didn’t want to push his thoughts onto his group members, but things weren’t looking like they would pick up any time soon.

“They’re looking for male trainees this year,” he said softly.

“So?” San shrugged.

“They’re also accepting debuted idols.”

Everyone froze. Taehyun squeezed his eyes shut. He was doing this because he loved his group, because he wanted them to succeed. He couldn’t forget that.

“Are you suggesting that we…?”

He looked up and found them all staring at him. He flinched.

“I think it’s something we should consider,” he tried to defend the idea, “There’s no denying that we’re struggling a lot. We need all the help we can get. Maybe it’ll get our name out there, then perhaps things won’t be so hard anymore.”

Junhyuk grimaced. This was a blow to their dignity, Taehyun knew that, but instead of being faced with all their anger like he expected, he was surprised to see only resignation on each of their faces.

“It’s not a… bad idea,” Junhyuk said.

They all looked at each other, and it seemed like the weight of their current situation sat heavily on their shoulders. Now it was just a question of who would make the sacrifice to lift it.

 

Morning found them all in the living room as they discussed which one of them would appear on the show. Their manager had only nodded when they suggested it.

“What’s there to lose?” he had said.

They were trying to decide who to send.

“We have to stand out. If we don’t bring something camera-worthy, then we’ll just blend into the background.”

“Should we send the visuals? They always show up on camera no matter what.”

“Most of the trainees will be younger and prettier than us. I don’t think we’ll be able to get noticed that way.”

“Plus, I think we should get attention because of our talent and not because of our faces.”

“So who has the most talent among us?”

They stared at each other awkwardly. It was a sensitive question, but one that had to be asked.

“Let’s put away our pride,” Taehyun said, slapping his hand on the floor.

The others nodded.

“Realistically, I don’t think I should go,” Hojeong piped up, “My dancing is okay and my singing isn’t anything special.”

He frowned as he said it. Sungwoon grabbed his hand comfortingly.

“Moonkyu, what about you?”

“My singing could use a bit of work,” Moonkyu made a face, “I want us to only show the best side of us.”

“San?”

The rapper twisted his hands and sighed.

“I would go, but…” he bit his lip, “I don’t really want to.”

He looked up.

“I’m sorry.”

Junhyuk shook his head.

“It’s okay, we can understand that.”

“So that leaves the three of you,” Moonkyu shifted and pointed to the other half of the group.

“What do you guys think?” Sungwoon asked the other three.

Hojeong leaned his head on his hand and observed them. He gestured to each of them in turn.

“Honestly, we should send Sungwoon and Taehyun. While Junhyuk has a really nice voice, I think he might be a little shy on TV, but both Sungwoon and Taehyun aren’t as timid.”

Moonkyu bobbed his head up and down.

“Yeah. They can both sing well, Sungwoon keeps up really well with choreography even though he’s not a dancer, and Taehyun’s krumping is very eye-catching and something I doubt anyone has really seen on a survival show.”

Junhyuk put an arm around Sungwoon.

“Are you two okay with that?”

The latter stared at the floor for a moment before squaring up his shoulders determinedly.

“If it’s for the team, it’s okay. I’ll go.”

“Me too,” Taehyun murmured.

Inside he was relieved. When he had brought up the possibility of them appearing on Produce 101, he had already made up his mind to be one of the ones, or even the only one going on, simply because he didn’t want the others to be burdened by the pressure. But he knew he could handle it.

Next to him, Sungwoon pulled his knees to his chest. All Taehyun could do was reach for one of his hands and hold it tightly.

 

“Are you a member of an existing group?”

“Yes.”

“Name, please?”

“Hotshot.”

“And you’ve been active since 2014, correct?”

“Yes.”

“How long was your training period?”

“Almost four years.”

“Okay. The last thing we need is your age.”

“I’m 25.”

Taehyun could almost see the pity in the employee’s eyes as she thanked him and added his written profile to the stack she already had beside her. His chest tightened as he realized just how pitiful he must have seemed. But it was fine. If it was for his group, he would do anything.

 

Taehyun tried to prepare himself as much as possible for the next few months. He and Sungwoon practiced day and night, refining their skills that had sadly been left unused for some time. They locked themselves in their studio until Sungwoon’s voice was clear, and his own krumping was more impactful than ever. But even with all their preparation, his heart wanted to leap out of his chest the minute they stepped out of the van and into the sight of the cameras.

They weren’t the first to arrive. Already Taehyun could see a group of trainees milling around the training building, all fresh-faced and enthusiastic.

“How young are the kids here?” he whispered to Sungwoon.

“I heard the youngest was born in 2003.”

Taehyun sucked in a breath. He was young, but in this industry, he was already considered past his prime. And the fact that he had to compete with boys barely past the threshold of puberty made him extremely self-conscious.

Sungwoon put an arm around his shoulders.

“Let’s just be charming,” he whispered, “Don’t forget to smile.”

He hooked an arm around Sungwoon’s and tightened his hold on his luggage as they walked past the cameras and towards the training building. He turned his lips up into what he hoped looked like a genuine smile. Ahead of them, a line was starting to form.

Taehyun observed the crowd. Just as he had suspected, a lot of the competition was young, but he hoped that the voters would judge by talent and not only by who would look good plastered all over their walls. There were some little groups that talked amongst themselves, but there were a lot of trainees that had come alone. Those ones clutched at their bags almost desperately as they glanced around shyly. Taehyun would sometimes catch their eyes, and he would flash them a small grin, hoping to ease their nervousness by even a fraction. He knew that if he were in their place, he would have greatly appreciated spotting a friendly face, especially while being surrounded by an air of competitiveness.

One by one, the trainees trickled into the building. When it became his and Sungwoon’s turn, the staff led them into a small room already filled with luggage. They hastily crammed their bags into an available space and hurried out. Out in the hallway, it was chaos. Groups of people were being ushered this way and that. Taehyun let himself be swept up in the crowd and found himself headed back outside towards the shuttles that would bring them to the filming location. He clambered onto one and eased himself onto the first available seat he found. Sungwoon, who had grabbed hold of his hoodie so that they didn’t get separated, collapsed next to him.

“Everyone’s nervous,” he mumbled, “It’s making my heart race.”

“We’ll be fine,” Taehyun reassured him, reaching out and patting down a stray piece of hair.

Despite his words, his own heart lurched as the bus filled up and started pulling out of the lot. Around him were only tense whispers. As much as he wanted to lean over and talk to some of the others sitting around them, he found himself unable to even open his mouth. Instead, he sang his part repeatedly under his breath, his hands and legs twitching as he went over the moves. As he felt his limbs continue to dance even when his attention drifted, his nerves began to settle. He knew he was ready.

 

There was something incredibly intimidating about the set. All 101 chairs towered before them, and the top 11 seats seemed impossibly high. The top of the pyramid felt unattainable, and yet Taehyun’s feet still wanted to climb to its peak. But he swallowed his greed, and followed Sungwoon up the stairs to the 56th and the 57th seats. It was somewhere in the middle; it was comfortable, but average. Definitely below where he wanted to be, but he didn’t want to be overly hopeful.

He twisted in his chair to look around. To his surprise, there were faces that he recognized. It looked like he and Sungwoon weren’t the only debuted idols hoping to get another chance. He felt a pang of sympathy for all of them, but he knew that his empathy wasn’t exactly shared with everyone in the room. He had heard the whispers, and the names they had called out. He could hear the malice, the disappointment, and the pity in some of their voices. He wondered if he should have been relieved or ashamed when someone sitting above him butchered their name and mentioned the group Hot-hot.

He watched carefully as the rest of the trainees filed in and took their seats. Already the studio was starting to feel a little stuffy. He went through the motions with the rest of them, standing up and bowing when the teachers started coming in, and clapped politely after every introduction. He felt more confident once he saw the panel of instructors, at least with them, his skills were being put on display, not his face.

After what seemed like an eternity, they started filming. The performances dragged on as the hours passed. Some trainees blew him away, and some were simply atrocious. He applauded after each of them, if not for their skill then for their hard work. The classing went completely against what he expected, and he watched in dread as F class welcomed more and more people. Next to him, Sungwoon clenched his fists.

“We should go now,” he murmured as another trainee got sorted into F, “If I keep sitting here, I’ll fall asleep.”

Sungwoon nodded and exhaled slowly. Their hands were the first in the air once the teachers asked who wanted to perform next. As soon as they had their mics, they were pushed onto the stage, staring back at over a hundred pairs of eyes.

“Hello, we are Ardor and Able trainees.”

Taehyun pointed to himself.

“Noh Taehyun.”

“Ha Sungwoon.”

They shuffled into position and he glanced at Sungwoon. The other smiled nervously back at him.

The teachers were scrutinizing them. The trainees were scrutinizing them. Taehyun was sure all of them knew by now that they had already debuted, and he suspected that their expectations were high. He closed his eyes for a second and prayed that he could meet them.

“Start the music.”

He felt the corners of his lips turn up into a smile, one he always had when he performed. He nodded once, his confidence rising. The music that had become so sickeningly familiar thumped through the studio. His thoughts dropped, and he danced.

It felt good to be onstage again. He performed, the hundred faces in front of him blurring and falling away. It didn’t matter who was watching anymore. This was where he belonged.

Too soon, they finished, the cameras and the lights coming back in focus along with applause. As he swept his eyes across the pyramid, he was pleased to see that he had managed to wake up a few of the yawning trainees. He turned his attention to the panel of teachers, and felt warmth bloom in his chest as he saw them all grinning.

“How did they fail with skills like these?”

“How much did they long to stand on a stage again?”

Taehyun could only laugh. The teachers’ admiration lifted the weight off his shoulders, and he stood tall.

“Taehyun, is it possible for us to see some of your krumping?”

The request made his heart skip a beat. His fingers twitched, and his body ached to dance again. This was the reason why he had wanted to be an idol, he had longed for a light to shine on his efforts. Sungwoon stepped aside, shooting him a thumbs up.

Music started again. He recognized the beat, and tried to suppress a smile. There was no guaranteed screen time for him in the future; if he wanted to impress, now was the time. He let his body go, showing the audience everything he had tried so hard to perfect for years. He allowed himself to watch the audience, catching and savoring each stunned expression.

They applauded again when he finished, and he felt a kind of hope surge in his chest as he and Sungwoon prepared to receive their class.

“The A trainees are…”

Taehyun stared at the ground as he clasped his hands together tightly.

“Please, please, please,” he murmured.

He didn’t even think Sungwoon was breathing.

“Please.”

“Ha Sungwoon.”

The other exhaled and almost collapsed. A smile formed on his lips as he bowed quickly and thanked the teachers before turning towards Taehyun, an excited and expecting look on his face. Normally, Taehyun would be congratulating his friend, but he still had his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him as he waited for his name to be called.

“And Noh Taehyun. Congratulations.”

The relief crashed down on him like a wave, sending him into a bow. He looked over at Sungwoon amidst the cheers, and the other had nothing but pride in his eyes. They walked off stage together, arms tight around each other.

“We did it,” Sungwoon breathed, eyes closing as he leaned into his shoulder.

There was nothing more rewarding than feeling the A sticker press onto his clothes. He sat back down with newfound strength.

 

Later, he let tears fall on camera. They asked him how he felt in that moment, and he found his eyes watering.

“It was rewarding. I’ve been practicing with Sungwoon for a long time, but despite all our best efforts, we never really heard much praise. So, to hear the teachers…”

He paused as he felt a wetness on his cheek. He pressed a hand over his mouth, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out as the staff handed him a tissue.

They gave him a moment to collect himself. He turned his chair and dabbed at his eyes, biting his lip to stop any cries. He wasn’t the type to cry, much less on camera, but he supposed the day’s events were finally getting to him. He could only hope his moment of weakness wouldn’t be ill-received. He sniffed as he turned back around, and tried to put on a brave face for the viewers.

“After all these years, getting that recognition was all I could have ever asked for,” he finished.

 

After hours of filming, they were finally allowed to move into their dorm rooms and unpack. Taehyun collapsed on a bottom bunk, his legs still a little numb from sitting for so long. The door was open, and outside in the hallway people shuffled around, voices rising as everyone got to know their new roommates.

He pushed himself up as Sungwoon came to sit beside him. In front of them, on the other bed were other A class trainees. He remembered the Brand New boys, and it was a little hard to forget who Samuel was. The three of them watched in amazement as Sungwoon opened his suitcase, and Taehyun couldn’t help but laugh when he saw that the other had basically dumped his entire bedside table into his bag.

“Air humidifier, deodorant, spectacles, face masks, plugs, electric blanket…”

“Sungwoon is always overly prepared,” he joked.

“He’s like a grandfather,” one of the Brand New boys, Daehwi, giggled.

As Sungwoon continued his show and tell, Daehwi bounded over to the cupboard and peeked inside. He gasped as he reached in.

“It’s pink!”

The other four crowded around him as he pulled out the A rank sweaters and passed them around. Taehyun ran his fingers over the A pasted on the back and it filled with him with such determination that he swore, in that moment, that he would never let it go.

 

After a hurried dinner, they ended up back at the filming studio, now all sporting their new sweaters. With all 101 trainees grouped together in front of the pyramid, on screen, there was only a splash of pink amidst a sea of grey. Taehyun felt proud, but he wasn’t giving himself permission to get too comfortable with the A on his back, because now was the most challenging part. He fixed his gazes on the teachers in front of him.

“Rank evaluations are over now, but don’t forget, the ones you have now are temporary. In three days, we’ll be re-evaluating everyone, so it isn’t the time to feel discouraged,” BoA pointed towards the horde of grey, “Or too cocky,” she raised an eyebrow towards the smattering of pink.

They all tensed. Three days was hardly enough to learn, let alone master a choreography. Memorizing the lyrics was also going to take up a fair bit of time. If Taehyun factored in the sheer pressure of the competition, he wasn’t sure how much sleep he was going to get in the next few days.

All around him, the others whispered, agitated. They were about to present the song. Taehyun clasped his hands together and waited with bated breath as the first few notes filled the studio. He bobbed his head, following the rhythm. He winced as the chorus started, and he saw Sungwoon suck in a breath at the pitch. This was already looking to be a daunting task. As the song ended, he looked around, and was met with only panicked faces.

If there was any kind of mercy in this industry, they would have taken into consideration the deadline and the difficulty of the task at hand, but this was a matter of survival, and there was no leniency to be found here. Taehyun could only stare as the teachers demonstrated the choreography, and he could hear some people behind him groan and hit the floor. Already his A weighed heavily on his body.

“You’re going to learn as a group first, and then we’ll go rank by rank.”

Without a chance to even go through the song one more time, they started training. This was nothing like their usual practices. With 101 to teach, it was keep up or get left in the dust. Sympathy didn’t exist, and Taehyun heard the cries of people already getting lost. He kept his eyes trained on the dancers, and absolutely refused to even think about giving up. His body followed the moves, his mind only focused on memorizing.

They went through the routine a few more times, but it was hardly enough. If it was already difficult for him, he couldn’t even imagine the discouragement of the lower ranks.

“We’ll go by class now. A up first.”

The other trainees moved towards the sides, and left the area empty for the seven trainees. Taehyun tried to ignore the gazes that settled on him, but he couldn’t help but feel small under their scrutiny. If he messed up here, he didn’t think he would be able to get over his disappointment. Not to mention what the others would think of him and his rank then. He took a deep breath.

“Music, start.”

To his relief, he blew through the routine with no problems, and so did all the others. The teachers looked especially pleased that they had made no mistakes with their classing. Taehyun had a feeling that he had just passed their first unofficial evaluation; now he only had to focus on getting through the real one.

 

It was late when they finally got back to the dorms. They had gone through each rank, and then the teachers had left them alone to practice. None of them had wanted to stop dancing or singing, not even when the clock started displaying single digit hours, but eventually exhaustion won out.

Taehyun trudged towards his room. Inside, Samuel had collapsed on top of his sheets, but his arms and legs jerked awkwardly as he attempted to keep practicing. Woojin and Daehwi were leaning on each other in the bed across from him, conversing quietly. Taehyun frowned as he caught sight of their dark circles.

“You guys should be sleeping.”

They all looked up.

“We wanted to wash up first, but there’s a line.”

Taehyun shook his head.

“We have to be up in about three hours, a shower isn’t worth missing out on sleep. Desperate times,” he rummaged through Sungwoon’s luggage, “Call for desperate measures. Sometimes that means caring more about your health than the way you look on camera.”

He tossed them a pack of makeup wipes.

“It’ll be enough for now. You can shower tomorrow morning.”

Daehwi thanked him as he ripped open the pack. He and Woojin slumped forwards as they patted at their faces. Taehyun turned to Samuel, whose limbs had still not stopped moving.

“And you,” he pinned the boy’s arms down, “Should stop practicing.”

Samuel whined but relented, fatigue clear on his features. Taehyun handed him a wipe.

“Aren’t you worried?” Samuel asked him, “About the competition?”

“Are you?”

“I’m terrified. I don’t want to get kicked out of A,” the younger’s eyes were wide and scared.

Taehyun felt a twist in his chest. These boys, his biggest rivals, were almost a decade younger than him and yet they were all trying to survive in the same world. It was hardly fair, that they had to suffer through so much just to take a step closer to their dreams.

“You won’t,” he said, sitting down on his bed, “You have a little something called talent, and if you work hard, nothing will make you fall.”

There was reassurance in his words, and he hoped he had managed to ease their nerves a little, even if he himself wasn’t completely convinced. But they didn’t need to know that. Though they did start to relax, it wasn’t enough to put themselves to bed, so they talked. Sungwoon came in and caught Taehyun’s eye, a sort of understanding passing between them. Although weariness was present on all their faces, Sungwoon didn’t force them to sleep and instead sat down next to the other two. They spoke softly, their conversation going through topics that meant nothing but brought comfort. They avoided any mention of practicing, and soon their shoulders started to slack, and their quiet giggles turned to snores.

 

The next three days passed in a blur. At first they had only practiced with their class, as if there was some sort of unspoken rule that said ranks could not mix. But there was too big of a difference in the progress between each rank; the higher levels were already flying through the entire song while the lower ones were still struggling with the verses. It wasn’t long before Taehyun and the others started knocking on the other ranks’ practice room doors. They soon abandoned their sweaters, letting their ranks be forgotten. Yes, it was a competition, but that didn’t mean camaraderie was dead. Taehyun wandered from room to room, dancing with anyone who needed help and coaching anybody who was struggling with their singing.

Everyone became more and more frantic as the time passed, and they all found themselves returning to their beds for three hours at most before jumping right back into the frenzy of training. It was hard and tiring, and Taehyun was dead on his feet by the time re-evaluation came around.

The staff had placed a camera in the front of the room and gave them instructions before leaving. They were to pass one by one and they only had one chance. Eventually, after a particularly intense game of rock paper scissors, they started, every person pressing record and performing.

After all seven of them had passed and did a better than decent job at it, they collapsed onto the floor together, the taunting red light of the camera finally shut off. Sungwoon, being the leader, attempted to haul them off the ground but ended up flopping forwards anyway. 

“Good job, guys,” he mumbled instead, his eyes closing.

They all hummed in response.

“I’m so tired.”

“I think it’s time for us all to get some sleep,” someone said.

They all made a noise of agreement and slowly peeled themselves off the floor. They trudged back to the dorms, waving and making signs of encouragement through the doors to the other trainees that had yet to finish. As Taehyun walked, he felt someone latch themselves to his arm. He looked over and found Daehwi, practically sleep walking.

“Do you think we’ll all stay in A?” the younger asked, yawning.

Daehwi’s hands were clammy but Taehyun grabbed them anyway, trapping them in his own.

“No one is going to fall,” he reassured him.

Inside though, he could only hope.

 

The filming crew took advantage of all their emotions running high, and gave them each access to a cellphone and the permission to make one call. It was cruel, to make them more emotional when they were already at their worst, and Taehyun hated them for putting emphasis on their desperation. It made for good TV, sure, but at what cost?

He still accepted the phone, and held a short but heartfelt conversation with his parents. He mentioned to them how tough it was, but reassured them right after that he was alright. He’d been on trips before, but he had never missed his family quite like this, and he told them that. They laughed fondly.

“We love you, Taehyun. Come back home soon.”

“I love you, too.”

He bid them goodbye reluctantly, and handed the phone back to the staff. His call had been sincere and genuine, but it was boring. He smiled to himself, this at least would not be broadcasted. He was satisfied that he had been able to control a little of his privacy, however miniscule it seemed.

He felt sorry for the trainees that returned to practice with red-rimmed eyes, as their tears would no doubt be highlighted and put on display. It was heartbreaking.   

 

The next day, all of them are too anxious to eat. Most of them picked at their food, waiting in tense silence for the staff to call them. Once the announcement came however, the room descended into chaos as they all pushed towards the doors, their plates long forgotten. They each hurried into their separate practice rooms, a chorus of nervous good lucks echoed in the hallway, friends squeezing each other’s hands one last time before splitting up.

Taehyun weaved through the crowded corridor and joined the other A trainees in their practice room. They all smiled stiffly to one another and sat down to wait. On one side of him, Woojin was staring at the ground as he chewed on his fingers, and on the other, Sungwoon was rigid, clenching his fists at every little sound. Taehyun just breathed, and although his heart was hammering in his chest, he reached out and put a hand on both, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he chanted softly.

He kept whispering words of encouragement until the door creaked open, making them all flinch. They hastily greeted BoA as she walked in, her heels clicking almost ominously against the floor. Time seemed to slow as she announced that they would have to wait for everyone else to change before finding out their own ranks. Any soothing that Taehyun’s words might have brought was wiped away in seconds as the first few trainees start finding their way to their door.

A C trainee, Woo Jinyoung, pushed his way in, struggling to keep the smile off his face as soon as he sensed the tension. Taehyun tried to shoot him a smile anyway, because his progress warranted some sort of congratulations. Ahn Hyeongseob literally came crashing through the door, and Taehyun chuckled, pleased to see that the other’s efforts had paid off.

More trainees start flowing in, finally filling their practically empty practice room. There were a handful of trainees from B, and one each from C, D and F. The F trainee, Taedong, was practically glowing, and Taehyun couldn’t help but feel thoroughly impressed. However, the air was heavier now, and as BoA shuffled the stack of cards that held their new ranks, the anticipation was becoming more and more suffocating.

Daehwi got called first, and the boy trembled as he accepted his card. He opened it slowly, and it was like the entire room was holding their breath. Taehyun leaned on his fists, lips pressed tightly together.

“Congratulations,” he heard BoA say, “You’re in A.”

Daehwi let out a relieved sigh and practically bounced back to his seat on the floor, his card clutched in his fingers. Sungwoon was called up next, and Taehyun didn’t dare relax, not until he heard the other’s satisfied laugh. Sungwoon came back to him with a smile, and Taehyun felt some of his worry ebb. If Sungwoon had dropped… He wondered if his ensuing string of curse words would have made it past editing.

He was next, and as he took the card from BoA, he told himself that no matter the outcome, it was okay. But still. Possibly being the first or even the only one to drop was enough for anyone of them to die of mortification. But the paper had a big red A stamped on it, and finally the stress fell off his shoulders. BoA congratulated him, and he floated back to his spot. Sungwoon beamed at him, and Taehyun resisted the urge to tackle him into a hug and squeal. They settled on leaning on each other instead, their arms pressed together.

Shockingly, thankfully, none of them dropped. Someone let out a sort of disbelieving laugh, and they all kind of collapsed against one another, the hardest part finally behind them.

 

Their next challenge was battling for center, and in all honesty, this was not a position Taehyun was striving for. He practiced half-heartedly among the other panicked trainees, his body moving freely as he listened to the music. Center meant being the face of Produce 101, and even though he wanted to be in A, he didn’t particularly want to fight for that certain position. He already sometimes had problems looking at his face in the mirror, he didn’t need the viewers to nitpick on him too. He was happy just being in the back.

Sungwoon came to check on him, a water bottle swinging from his fingertips.

“What are you going to do?” he passed it to him.

Taehyun shrugged.

“Probably just going to freestyle once I’m up there. I don’t really want to be center.”

Sungwoon tilted his head to the side.

“Why?”

Taehyun just pointed to his face. Realization dawned on the other, and he frowned. He shook his head almost violently, and dragged Taehyun away from the people that were practicing.

“Stop thinking like that,” Sungwoon’s voice was almost pleading, “It’s not true.”

Taehyun avoided his eyes.

“Hey. If your face is the reason why you won’t try to get center, I’m going to slap you so hard, even with all these cameras,” Sungwoon threatened lowly.

Taehyun couldn’t argue, especially since the other was spot on with his observation, so he kept quiet. Sungwoon sighed.

“Taehyun, listen to me.”

He kept his head down.

“Don’t think too much about what the public is going to say. If they’re too shallow to even try to see past a pretty face, then they’re not worth impressing. But there are people out there that love and will love you. They’re going to love your talent, your passion, your drive, but how are they going to see it if you don’t even try? Even if someone else becomes center, convince people that you’re as deserving of the position.”

Taehyun bit his lip. Sungwoon came closer and slipped his arms around his waist, resting his head on his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful,” he murmured, “Anyone who can’t see that is irrelevant.”

Taehyun’s heart tightened, and he went a little limp in the other’s arms.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

They stayed like that for a moment, drawing the attention of some of the other trainees.

“Hey, you guys okay?”

Daehwi, despite looking like he was about to faint from nervousness, came over, concerned about him. They pulled away from each other.

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

Daehwi still wasn’t convinced.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing really. I just lost some confidence, but,” Taehyun looked over to Sungwoon, “I think it’s back now.”

He wasn’t just talking about the center position. Sungwoon grinned, relieved.

 

In the end, he tried his best, but didn’t do anything that came remotely close to matching the song. Instead, he danced for himself. He stared straight into the camera as he pulled his fingers across his lips, warning the audience that if they had nothing nice to say, then to not speak at all. He didn’t need their words.

 

The actual performance came around a few weeks later, and he couldn’t help but be in awe of the stage. It was huge and extravagant, and he was eager to finally have a set to showcase all their hard work. He was put somewhere in the middle of the A trainees, which was perfectly fine by him, but that meant he probably wasn’t being captured by the camera a whole lot. He didn’t let the smile slip off his face though, and he kept his eyes on the roaming camera the entire time. Even a second of screen time was better than none.

It was over too soon, their month of training essentially all going into this short four-minute performance. But he found himself only surrounded by smiles, and despite all the practicing and the coaching he had done, and all the sweat he had pushed through, he finally felt rewarded.

 

They were allowed two weeks of break before they were to start filming for the first elimination round, so he and Sungwoon packed their bags, said their temporary goodbyes, and headed back to their own dorm.

They finally got their cellphones back, and the first thing they did was text their members. They were welcomed by smiles and the comforting scent of food. They stood together in the entrance, all six of them crammed tightly in the tiny hallway. It had been a while since they had last seen each other, or even contacted each other, given the fact that their phones had been confiscated the minute they stepped into the training area.

Their luggage was unceremoniously tossed aside as questions started flowing. They moved towards the kitchen, Moonkyu coming up behind Taehyun and poking his side, frowning.

“You both got skinnier,” he sighed, shaking his head.

They sat down for dinner, their members making sure that the two of them had heaping portions of food on their plates.

“So how was it?”

“Was it hard?”

“Are you guys okay?”

Sungwoon was too busy shoveling rice into his mouth to answer, so Taehyun took over. He told them about their dorms, their roommates, the training center, and he watched them roll their eyes as he talked about everything but what they wanted to know. Eventually, tired of hearing Taehyun skirt around the subject, Sungwoon smacked his arm and shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth. And he finally told the others what they were itching to hear.

“We got into A, in case you were wondering.”

They cheered, Hojeong bending over the table to give them each a solid pat on the back. Junhyuk’s eyes twinkled as he leaned forward.

“I’m proud of you, guys. I knew you could do it.”

The others nodded in agreement. It was hard to stop smiling when they all looked so proud, and for the first time in a long time, there was a sense of hopefulness in their dorm.

 

The next two weeks were spent listlessly practicing and trying to find effective ways to pack more snacks into their luggage without sacrificing their wellbeing. Sungwoon mourned the removal of his electric blanket and clutched it tightly to his chest as Taehyun pulled more things out of his bag.

The members sent them off with more good lucks, and threatened to have their locks changed if either one of the two came back eliminated. Taehyun laughed, but he himself couldn’t bear the thought of returning without at least having experienced the top 60. The disappointment would be crushing.

 

Their challenge this time around was to cover one of their seniors’ songs. Taehyun waited patiently for his name to be called, and he watched carefully as teams started to form. He was pleasantly surprised to hear Daehwi call out Sungwoon’s name first, but his heart dropped as the former continued to name most of the popular trainees. It was an ambitious move, and played right, it could be incredibly beneficial. But Daehwi really didn’t do himself any favours by immediately naming them the Avengers team. Taehyun winced, and Sungwoon’s smile went from contented to forced. Everyone around him sucked in a breath. He could only hope that this wouldn’t disadvantage him.

Besides them, there weren’t many teams that he would mind going up against, the only exception being the group that Minhyun formed. He wanted to physically recoil from the sheer force of the unit.

He himself ended up in a pretty solid group. Taehyun examined them as they discussed which song to spring for. There was Woojin, who Taehyun was pleased to see; there was Hyeongseob, whose smile never seemed to fall; and a few others that he hadn’t really had the chance to talk to yet. They were all smiling though, so Taehyun didn’t think they would be having any problems.

 

Practice went well at first, but they kind of hit a wall once he and Woojin started disagreeing. It was a small thing, just a difference in their teaching styles, but it made them bicker for a little bit until they found some truth in each other’s words and compromised. It happened a few more times, and each time their teammates tensed and waited, but their arguing fizzled out relatively quickly, and they got right back on track. It wasn’t until later that Taehyun noticed the abundance of cameras set up around them. He only had to take a quick look around to see that every other team only had one or two pointed towards them. He turned his head back slowly, and stared into the lens. The red light blinked at him. His heart sank.

 

Taehyun tried to hold his tongue for the next few days, but it was hard when he noticed that they were still progressing too slowly, or when he could see Woojin struggle to help everyone at once. So he spoke up, because they needed to win, because he only wanted to best for all of them. Woojin sent him a grateful smile, but the cameras around them didn’t pick up on that. They only had one target.

When it was time for his individual interview, he was not at all surprised when their questions revolved solely around his conflict with the other boy.

“Don’t you think Woojin is upset that you’re being more of a leader than he is?”

He blanched at the question. He was sure Woojin wasn’t mad at him, and Taehyun certainly didn’t think he was being more of a leader. He stepped in when the team needed help, and Woojin always grinned at him when he did so, but he supposed that this was the storyline they were trying to weave.

“I don’t know,” he said, “All I wanted was for our practice to pass more efficiently. Woojin…”

The rest of his sentence stuck in his throat. There were about a hundred things he could say, and about a million ways his words could be misconstrued. And he didn’t even know what Woojin said in his interview. For all he knew, the other could have complained about him, and this was their way of painting him in a horrible light. His palms started to become clammy.

“I just wanted to help,” he finished lamely, praying that the editing staff had some mercy.

Later, he caught Woojin outside their dorm room.

“Hey,” he tapped his shoulder, “We’re good, right? You’re not mad at me for helping with practices, are you?”

Woojin shrugged.

“I was a little upset at first, but I realized that we worked faster, and better, when you stepped in. So now I’m thankful that you did. I’m not the best leader. I’m not assertive, and sometimes I mess up with the formations. You fill in all the places I’m lacking in, and it’s good. It’s… it’s nice.”

Taehyun breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, I just want to apologize anyway. I had no right interfering, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the other shook his head, smiling.

“Are the others mad?”

“Hardly. They think we make a pretty good team.”

They grinned at each other.

 

Taehyun stopped holding back. He stepped in when he was needed, and fell back to let Woojin lead. He let the camera pick up on their little disputes, but he was pretty sure that their teammates giggling at them in the background rendered most of the footage useless. They couldn’t exactly stage a tense atmosphere when half their team was making jokes.

They ended up winning, and although he knew his edit wasn’t going to be pretty, maybe the smiles on his teammates’ faces were worth the sacrifice.

 

After filming ended, Taehyun wandered around the dorm looking for Sungwoon. He poked his head into his team’s room, but they were all collapsed on top of their sheets with full faces of makeup, and he knew that if Sungwoon had been around, he would have already been smearing cleanser on each of their faces by now. He trudged towards the practice rooms, and heard a singing voice float down the stairs as he climbed them. All but two of the vocal rooms were empty, so he went and knocked on one of them. The song abruptly stopped.

The door slowly opened and a head popped out. It was Yongguk, a trainee Taehyun had barely spoken to at all, if only for the fact that the boy was awfully closed off. Even now, the other was timid and avoiding his eyes. Taehyun figured that if he had disturbed his practice, he might as well offer him his compliments on his performance earlier that day.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. You’re Yongguk, right? You did a really good job today.”

The boy’s head snapped up and he flushed. The doorknob was tight in his grasp as he bowed slightly.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Taehyun was about to leave him be, but the tired expression on the other’s face made him stop. If he remembered correctly, Yongguk had come into the competition with a friend, but was now alone. Taehyun wondered if he was okay.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” he asked, leaning down to peer into his eyes.

Yongguk looked up, startled.

“Alright,” he said hesitantly, “I’m a little disappointed we didn’t win.”

Taehyun reached up and gently patted his shoulder. The practice room beside them opened and he could see Sungwoon step out from the corner of his eye.

“You did your very best. I would have picked you over Sungwoon.”

There was an indignant squawk behind him, and a punch landed on his shoulder. Yongguk laughed as Taehyun tried not to wince. He ignored Sungwoon’s whines.

“It’s getting late. You should get back to the dorm.”

Yongguk sighed and nodded, walking away, bidding them both a shy good night. As the boy disappeared down the stairs, Taehyun finally turned to Sungwoon, who pouted at him.

“You did great today!” Taehyun exclaimed, grinning widely.

Sungwoon only scoffed and punched him again, but was quick to run a comforting hand over him when he yelped. They slid down the wall and sat together in the dimly lit hallway.

“How are you?” Taehyun murmured.

It had been a while since they last talked. Sungwoon had been busy with his team, and Taehyun with his. The most contact they had had were the brief gazes crossed across the room, and the occasional few sentences they exchanged when they happened across each other in the dorm.

“I’m fine. Tired. Worried about you,” Sungwoon sighed quietly and slouched forward, “Scared too.”

Taehyun nodded wordlessly. They leaned on each other and spoke softly into the dark. Conversation ebbed and flowed, their sentences sometimes breaking off and never picking up, and their quiet laughs echoing in the empty space. They stayed there for a while, the moon peeking through the skylight and then disappearing as the night went on. In the end, they stumbled their way back to the dorm once the sky started to lighten. Soft snores emanated from every room as they whispered their good nights. 

 

When the group mission episode finally aired, Junhyuk called him and Sungwoon into the living room so they could watch it together. Taehyun had already relayed what had happened, and in front of his members, the worry had returned. The six of them sat in front of the TV, anxiously waiting for his team to get the spotlight. Junhyuk watched the screen carefully, his chin resting on his hands, and Moonkyu gnawed at his fingernail.

On screen, practice started. They all winced when the camera zoomed in on him innocently taking a sip of water, and Junhyuk slapped his shoulder when they showed the vocal practice and his pushing for Woojin to lead. Hojeong helpfully pointed out that Woojin had laughed right after, and Taehyun could only hope that the viewers wouldn’t miss that.

By the time the episode ended, Junhyuk had already pulled out his phone and was scouring any articles that may have mentioned him.

“It’s not that bad,” he announced.

“Define not bad.”

“Well,” he scratched his head, “It looks like it’s split fifty-fifty. Some people really liked your assertiveness and wish you would have just stepped up as leader, and others are calling you bossy and feel sorry for Woojin. Most of them think you two are fighting.”

He and Woojin were fine, actually.

“I don’t know how this is going to go,” Junhyuk said truthfully, “I guess we’ll see at the elimination.”

 

Right before he and Sungwoon left the dorm again, Moonkyu ran up and shoved his phone into his hands.

“Forgot to show you this,” he said, pointing at the screen, “You’ve got messages from Minah and Hyeran.”

He looked to Sungwoon.

“And you’ve got some from Jimin and Wonshik. Check them before you leave.”

Taehyun stared down at the phone. It was sweet, the support message that his friends had left for him. It made him feel slightly more at ease, even hours later, when all the trainees gathered before the pyramid of 60 seats. Taehyun looked around, and there was a dull ache in his chest even as his eyes passed over people he had only spoken a few syllables to. There was already a goodbye hanging on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

 

The 26th place was his. He allowed himself a brief second of relief before heading back down the pyramid to bid goodbye to his friends. Seeing them walk away, hands shoved into pockets, back hunched as the chance to debut slipped from their grasp, was a punishment more cruel than elimination.

 

They jumped right back into practice the next day. The room felt emptier, yet still was stifling. Taehyun stood at his spot, the number 26 plastered to his shirt. He craned his neck and lifted himself up onto his toes, anxious to see the options for the concept evaluation. He could already say, with absolute certainty, that there was no other choice for him but dance. All 60 of them waited in tense silence as BoA finished explaining the voting and the benefit, before she stepped aside to let the curtain drop. There were exclamations as the fabric found its way to the floor.

His eyes focused directly onto the red panels and he quickly scanned the titles. They were fine, was all he could say. He doubted he could stand out in Right Round or Pop, and Get Ugly was bound to be a popular choice, and he did not want to get involved in that bloodbath. Shape of You, though, was strangely enticing. It was definitely not a song he would have expected, but he sang the melody quietly under his breath and his limbs twitched as he realized this could work to his advantage.

They started the song selection, and Taehyun carefully observed each person that went forward as he tried to predict who his potential teammates might be. The first few that went in were all dancers, and he worried for a little bit, as their ranking was a huge factor in their popularity. But Hyungseob let out a strangled cry from behind the wall once it was his turn, and Taehyun assumed that it was a sound of distress, which could mean that he had found all the high rankers in his team. And Taehyun was sure Hyeongseob would never pick Shape of You. He put a hand on his chest and breathed.

He watched Sungwoon walk forward. They all groaned when BoA asked him what song he wanted and then ripped it off the wall and out of his grasp. He disappeared behind the wall, shaking his head.

Soon, it was Taehyun’s turn. He headed over to the table and grabbed the Shape of You plaque without giving it too much thought. He hugged it to his chest as he rounded the corner, and his eyes immediately darted over to where the corresponding sticker was. Underneath it, two people stood. First was Taedong, the F to A trainee that danced incredibly well. The corners of his lips started to quirk upwards, but then he saw Sungwoo, the oldest trainee that had shown entirely way too much skin during the company evaluation, and they froze.

“I’m… surprised,” he said, walking forward.

Taedong brightened as he saw Taehyun come towards him. He stared at the plaque in his hands expectantly, and whooped when he turned it over. Sungwoo grinned widely. Taehyun could hardly believe his luck.

 

Once the bottom ranks finalized their team, the staff assigned them each a spot in the room. Besides Taedong and Sungwoo, there was also Donghan, who assured him that he used to be part of a busking team, and Taehyun had seen the boy spontaneously dance once any kind of music played so he was hardly worried about him. The other two were Justin and Junwoo who were excitedly jumping around them, and from what he could remember, they were able to move without looking like they were wildly flailing, so Taehyun considered that a win. The only person he had to spend extra time with was Sungwoo, and although he hated the thought of having to teach the basics, he was going to make this performance perfect.

The staff beckoned Junwoo over and gave him two stickers, one for leader and one for center. They looked at each other.

“So, who should be leader?”

Taehyun glanced over to the cameras.

“I think Taehyun should do it,” Taedong piped up, “He helped a lot in A class, and during the last mission.”

His teammates nodded quickly and without complaint. He didn’t even have time to say a word before they slapped the leader sticker onto his chest. He smoothed down the edges with his fingers, and felt a different kind of weight settle on his shoulders. He was responsible for all of them now. In this situation where he already struggled hard to keep himself afloat, he now had to make sure each of them survived.

“Next, who should be center?”

Taehyun had seen teams where the selection process had torn them apart, feelings of betrayal and frustration and humiliation souring the practices. He didn’t want that to happen.

“Since it’s a position all of us would be happy to have,” he saw them all acknowledge his words, “Let’s see who has the best expressions?”

It was a fair system, but Taehyun regretted it as soon as Sungwoo started drifting side to side and awkwardly tried to flirt with the camera. They laughed as everyone had their turn, and finally, with red faces, they wrote down their choice on a slip of paper.

“Taehyun.”

Taehyun was surprised when the first vote was for him, and was practically speechless when the team unanimously appointed him as center. They cheered as they stuck on the second sticker, and he, touched, bowed his head.

“You can do it,” his teammates encouraged him, patting his back.

They all looked so hopeful and so trusting, and choreography had never been easier to make.

 

Their first check up did not go well though, for them or any other team. Their trainers looked on with pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows, and had only harsh words to spit at them. His choreography did get criticized, but he was hardly upset. In fact, he was the one comforting his dejected teammates.

“Aren’t you upset?” Justin asked him, pouting.

He shrugged. They had time, and he had confidence in his team. His hand gripped the iPad and his headphones, and he waved the five of them on, insisting that they go get lunch. He watched them stride away, and he headed in the opposite direction, towards the empty practice rooms.

 

Trying to locate Sungwoon was one of the most time consuming tasks he had. Taehyun was so used to only having to walk a few steps, if any at all, to find the other. Every time he turned around, he expected to find him there. But this wasn’t their dorm, and they weren’t in the same team anymore. Instead, he had to scour the building until he finally spotted him.

This time, Sungwoon was sitting in an empty hallway with Hyunbin by his side, lyric sheets that had been furiously scribbled on crumpled between them.

“Hey,” Taehyun greeted before plopping down in front of them, “What are you doing out here?”

He had run into the other part of the Downpour team in the vocal practice rooms, and they had wordlessly pointed him in this direction.

“It’s my turn to help Hyunbin with his part,” Sungwoon sighed grumpily.

“Sorry,” Hyunbin apologized sheepishly.

Sungwoon just shook his head and waved his hand around, stifling a yawn. Taehyun had a feeling that the other’s displeasure stemmed from the dark bags under his eyes and not the fact that he was stuck teaching.

“I can help, if you want,” Taehyun offered.

“Would you?” Sungwoon begged him.

Taehyun scooted closer to them. He listened to Sungwoon patiently explain to Hyunbin, and he pitched in when there was something to add. The three of them sang quietly in the dark hallway, until Hyunbin was able to sing his entire verse without going off pitch once. Taehyun shot him a thumbs up and a smile as he yelled in victory, putting an arm around the older’s shoulder and squeezing him. Sungwoon just groaned and collapsed onto the floor.

“Thank you,” Hyunbin beamed at them both and slapped Sungwoon’s leg when the other didn’t answer.

The latter grunted, and dozed off within a minute. Instead of shaking him awake, the two of them sat with their backs against the wall and quietly talked until Jaehwan came looking for them.

 

After a few days of practice that stuttered and skipped and sometimes stopped altogether, the six of them finally got into the rhythm of things. Taehyun was the one that choreographed the most, but Taedong and Donghan were more than happy to step in and pitch ideas when he got stuck. Justin and Junwoo were satisfied with just following along and generally keeping their mood up with their laughter. Sungwoo, of course, still struggled, and Taehyun could see the frustration becoming clearer on his features, but if there was anyone in the competition that embodied the word “hard-working”, it was him. Sure, the man still flailed around a bit and sometimes he would trip and crash through their formations, but his eagerness made up for his mistakes.

Taehyun really liked his team. Taedong was always there by his side, admiration he didn’t think he deserved shining in his eyes. The younger was the one to come fetch him when nights ran long and lights had long since been turned off. Donghan made sure none of them went hungry, but he did so by sneaking in snacks and chocolate that he managed to hide from the cameras. Junwoo, who at first was shy, now filled the room with his “tatata’s” as he loudly counted the beats. Their youngest member, Justin, had endless energy and often clung to all of them like a giant backpack. He was also happy to supply them with water bottles and towels as long as he was payed with smiles and compliments. And Sungwoo, when he wasn’t focused on practice, was extremely gentle, cracked lame jokes and scared them with horror stories of getting old. By the time their routine was finalized, going to practice felt more like a day out with friends than a competition.

 

There was nothing more gratifying than finishing their performance and hearing a thunderous chorus of “encore” ring out across the entire venue. Taehyun stood, jaw dropping open, still frozen in his final pose. He couldn’t see any of his teammates’ reactions, but he was sure they were all in varying states of shock. They were coaxed out of their positions and given a microphone while the crowd continued to chant. The mic was passed back and forth between the six of them as none of them able to form coherent enough sentences. Junwoo finally grabbed it from a reluctant Taedong and blubbered a quick thank you before they were ushered away.

Backstage, they clung tightly to one another as they headed towards the little room where they would get the performance results. Justin and Junwoo thrashed around as they chanted “encore”, and the rest of them could only laugh in disbelief. They were the first team of the night to get such a response, and for the first time since it all started, Taehyun was able to hope for that top spot. They watched anxiously as the screen lit up and their names appeared.

Sungwoo got sixth, to which he only nodded dejectedly. Taedong, who was sitting next to him, squeezed his thigh in support. Junwoo got fifth, and the boy pouted at his result. They patted his back and he brightened a little bit. Donghan got fourth, and he hung his head, disappointed. He accepted their congratulations with a bitter sort of smile. Third was Justin, and the boy smiled happily. It was down to him and Taedong, and both of them shook hands as they praised each other.

He chewed on his handkerchief as the screen refused to change. After a few tense seconds that felt like hours, the number 1 appeared. Next to his name. Taehyun had only a moment to glance at it before his teammates circled around him, congratulations spilling out.

“You deserve it the most,” Junwoo wrapped himself around him.

“Maybe you’ll even get first in dance,” Justin exclaimed.

It was a very big wish, a position he always knew was reserved for someone else. But the crowd’s cheers still rang in his ear, and he couldn’t stop the hopeful smile that spread across his face.

 

Taehyun watched his name take over Haknyeon’s number one spot with 621 votes. Justin gripped his shoulders. There was only one team left to reveal, and he was expecting himself to plummet down the scoreboard. But the last six names filled up the pyramid, and he was still on the top. He stared, speechless, as 110000 points were added to his result, and he felt a lump in his throat. Not one person in his team was in the bottom half, and Taehyun felt like he was finally doing something right.

 

Two weeks later, he watched half his team get eliminated. Donghan was barely hanging on at 35th. He buried his face in his hands. He sat on the 21st seat, but he didn’t think so highly of himself anymore.

 

He watched the eliminated trainees pack up to leave with a heavy heart. Junwoo, Justin and Sungwoo all reassured him that they were okay, that they weren’t upset, much less at him, but it didn’t do much to ease his guilt. They said their farewells, and they wish him good luck without an ounce of sadness in their voices, and all Taehyun wanted to do was cry. He felt like he had failed.

Taedong found him, afterwards, moping on his bed.

“I thought I did enough,” he said bitterly, “I thought I’d be able to save them.”

Taedong sat down next to him and rubbed his back.

“You did your best,” he said softly, “They know that, and they’re thankful.”

Taehyun just groaned and tried to suffocate himself with his pillow. Taedong leaned forward and draped himself over the older.

“You were the best leader,” his voice was muffled, “You gave us an encore. You created a legendary stage. People are going to see that, and they’re going to regret not voting for you before.”

Taehyun flipped onto his side, jostling the other. He stared at Taedong.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

Taedong smiled widely. The guilt was still gnawing at him, but he tried to push it away.

“Here,” Taedong shoved him to the side so that he could lie down beside him, “I found something that will cheer you up.”

He had gotten his phone back, and he had it currently open on a wall of text. Taehyun squinted. The other offered it to him.

“Read it.”

It was a message from one of his old dance mates, back when he wasn’t an idol yet, back when everyone started calling him “Kid Monster”. He remembered the day the crew gave him the name, and he had treasured it so much he had carried it with him when he debuted. People told him his future was dance, and that he was crazy for wanting to be an idol. All these years later, he wondered if they were right after all. But then he thought about Sungwoon and Moonkyu and Junhyuk and Hojeong and San, and he thought about their pathetic little dorm that still held so many hopes and dreams, and he knew. Even if they never made it big, at least he had tried, and throughout it all, he had loved it.

He focused on the message.

“…the only person I’ve ever seen be born to krump is this person…,” he read quietly, “…he is a born genius dancer… if he was active as a dancer, I think he would be in a higher place than me.”

He read and reread the words, his eyes stuck to the screen, memorizing them until they were burned into his brain. Taedong poked his side.

“Are you okay?”

Taehyun turned to him, his mouth already forming the words “I’m fine”, but the other was looking at him with such concern that they died on his lips.

“It’s not fair,” he said instead, “None of this is fair. Why do we even try so hard? Why do we have to say goodbye to the people, and the things we love?”

Taedong couldn’t answer.

 

Before the elimination, Taehyun and eleven trainees had formed the “Showtime” team. They had slapped the leader sticker on him and no one had protested. Now, their numbers had dwindled down to six. As they waited for their new potential teammates to walk through the door, Taehyun observed his team. They were a strong group, he had to admit, but in terms of rank…

Their door was wrenched open, and in came Sungwoon, his face tight, and Moonbok, who only looked dejected. Taehyun was more than happy to see his old groupmate, but the other’s expression clearly indicated that he couldn’t have cared less at this moment. The boy was sulking.

Jisung quickly greeted them and motioned for the rest to huddle together.

“Who do we want?” he whispered.

“Sungwoon,” Taehyun said automatically.

The others nodded. There wasn’t anything wrong with Moonbok, but the other teams had members that brought in tons of votes. After the last evaluation, the viewers had started to notice Sungwoon. Bringing him on would mean a few more, and in this competition, sometimes that was enough.

“I’m just trying to stay on the show,” Sungwoon had murmured to him a week ago during one of their breaks, “The others are just fighting to stay in “Never”.” It’s every man for himself.”

It was cruel, for the others to have pushed him out, especially since Taehyun knew how much the other fought to stay. He nudged Jisung. The latter walked forward, a red t-shirt in hand.

“The member we want is…” Jisung held out the shirt, “Sungwoon.”

Sungwoon thanked him, subdued amidst the cheers, and came further into the room. Moonbok just smiled and wished them good luck, heading out to his new team. Sungwoon peeled off his pink shirt and tossed it into a corner, a little roughly, and pulled the red one over his head. Taehyun tugged at his hand, and he just sighed.

 

The choreography was memorized and perfected within a few days, so Taehyun usually dismissed their practices early and left them all to their own devices. Some of them continued to practice, some of them went back to the dorms to catch up on sleep.

Taehyun was one of the latter. He found Sanggyun already in their shared room, his face illuminated by his phone. He didn’t even know how the younger managed to get it back, but he figured the staff would never know, now that they finally took down the cameras that used to film them every hour of the day.

“Come look at this,” Sanggyun beckoned him over.

He left a space for Taehyun on the bed beside him.

“What’s this?” he asked as he saw his own face on the screen.

“Some of our fans created this imaginary group called JBJ,” Sanggyun tilted the phone to show him, “Apparently, people have noticed that we work well together.”

“Who’s in it?”

“You, me. Taedong, Donghan, Hyunbin. Kenta and Yongguk,” he named.

Taehyun smiled. It was nice to think about.

He always dropped in on Taedong and Donghan’s practices, just because he missed them. For the first few days after elimination, Donghan had a permanent frown on his face. He glared at the 35 on his shirt in distaste. But it served as motivation, and he and Taedong refused to take breaks, even when Taehyun pleaded. Their desperation reminded him of Moonkyu, who had more than once pushed himself far beyond his limits just to prove that he was meant to be in this industry, no matter how many times fame was torn from his grasp. Hyunbin was there too, either lazily following the routine from his spot on the floor or asking Taehyun how his rap sounded.

And e

ver since Taehyun found Yongguk in the vocal practice rooms, he had gone out of his way to talk to the other as often as he could. Yongguk was a silent force, shy but talented. Taehyun had proudly ruffled his hair when the other told him about the compliments he’d been getting. Somewhere along the way, Yongguk befriended Kenta and introduced him to Taehyun. The two of them bonded over being foreigners, and often, Taehyun found himself giving impromptu Korean lessons over dinner.

And there was Sanggyun. The rapper looked cold and unapproachable, but if there was one thing Taehyun learned from being in the same team, it was that he was someone who didn’t laugh, but giggled instead, at little things. His cool demeanor was shattered the moment he smiled.

“That’s pretty cool. Imagine if it was real,” Taehyun nudged him.

“There’s a ton of people supporting it. It could happen,” Sanggyun glanced at him, “If we wanted to.”

“What happens if one of us makes it into the top 11?” Taehyun asked jokingly.

Sanggyun sighed and put his phone down.

“Do you think any one of us could make it?”

Taehyun’s smile slipped off his face.

“No,” he replied honestly, “I don’t think so.”

They stayed quiet for a moment. When Sanggyun spoke again, his voice was small.

“I came on the show to bring exposure to my group, but I don’t think I’m doing a good job. All I wanted was to prove to people that Topp Dogg’s Atom was capable and talented, but I haven’t shown much at all.”

“You made it into the top 35, didn’t you?”

“But is it enough? Will it be enough to save us?”

It was no secret who had already debuted. But it was almost considered taboo to talk about it aloud. Sure, people whispered behind closed doors, but no one confronted them about it. After the first few initial interviews, Taehyun didn’t mention Hotshot to anybody except Sungwoon. He was a trainee now. But here was Sanggyun, someone who had also debuted and was struggling to stay afloat.

“Tell me about Topp Dogg.”

Sanggyun sank down onto his pillows. His fingers tapped the back of his phone.

“We’re from a crappy company,” he said, “They were getting desperate so they just rounded up all the trainees and debuted us like that. We were doing okay for a while, but our wallets stayed empty and our stages became quieter, and then members started leaving. A lot of us wondered if we were meant to be idols.”

“So why did you stay together?”

“Because we meant something to each other. Because it was our dream. Because even if we didn’t become popular, the least we could do was try. That’s why I came on the show. But if I don’t make it to the top, then I feel like it wasn’t worth it. My team deserves so much more than just top 35.”

Sanggyun looked at him.

“Be honest. Don’t you ever feel like you’re fighting a fight you can never win?”

Taehyun nodded. The other’s eyes held many questions that he was too nervous to voice out, or too scared to hear the answers to. Taehyun answered them anyway.

“Hotshot disappeared for two years,” he started, “We were convinced it was the end, and for a few months, it was. The company promised us comebacks and gave us nothing. Eventually some of us stopped going to practice, and belongings started disappearing from the dorm. The pen was practically already in our hands and dripping ink, all we needed was that termination contract.”

“And you still came on the show?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they? Hotshot and Topp Dogg and everybody else out there that is struggling, we all deserve another shot.”

He closed his eyes.

“Maybe we won’t find it here. Maybe our second chance is with JBJ.”

Sanggyun snorted.

“It would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

 

The next day, Woojin had a sort of mental breakdown in the middle of practice. Woodam hurriedly stopped the music and they all circled around their youngest, hands reaching out to comfort him.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked gently.

Woojin wiped at his eyes and sniffed.

“I miss my group,” he said, his voice watery.

“Oh…” Jisung came closer and hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, Woojin. You’ll see them soon.”

They sat him down on the floor and fetched him some water. The boy, after having calmed down somewhat, was quick to reassure them that it wasn’t because of them that he was having a hard time. It must have been the stress. Taehyun was already incredibly burdened, and Woojin was practically a decade younger than him. It mush have been hard on him.

They managed to calm him down, and Sungwoon went outside to track down a phone. They got Woojin’s group on the line, and the youngest almost crumpled at the sound of their voices, a relieved smile spreading on his face. They left him alone, and Taehyun called off their practice.

Woodam and Jisung went off to find some snacks, leaving the rest of them in the hallway. Taehyun hadn’t realized it before, but with the exception of those two, they had all debuted before. They regarded each other, Woojin’s laugh ringing out from behind the door. A sort of urge came over them all. Samuel bid them a quick goodbye and headed off towards the other practice rooms. Sanggyun rushed away, towards the dorm, where his phone was hidden.

It was just him and Sungwoon left. Taehyun had never allowed himself to directly acknowledge the holes in the space around them, but now it was hard to ignore. He missed his members, and the familiarity of the life they had begun to build. Sungwoon grabbed his hand.

“Let’s go find a phone, shall we?”

 

Performance night was upon them sooner than they had anticipated. Taehyun laid in bed, unable to shake the feeling that tomorrow would be his last. A knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie.

“Come in.”

Sungwoon stepped in. His hair was wet and dripping onto the pillow he held in his arms.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

He wasn’t asking Taehyun, he was looking at Sanggyun. The latter nodded slowly, and Taehyun thought that he would just go back to minding his own business, but instead he gathered a few things in his arms and walked out of the room. When the door closed behind him, Sungwoon pattered over and tossed the pillow onto Taehyun’s bed, following it soon after.

“We’re not going to fit,” he protested as Sungwoon pulled up one side of his blanket and settled down beside him.

“It’s fine, we’re small. We’ll make it work.”

“There are five other beds in this room.”

“I just want to be next to you tonight. Okay?”

Taehyun stared at him.

“Okay,” he said.

Sungwoon sighed and closed his eyes, trying to look nonchalant, but the way his hands were tightly gripping Taehyun’s shirt said otherwise.

“What’s wrong?”

The younger turned his face into his chest. His voice came out muffled.

“I feel like the next elimination is going to get us. I don’t want either of us to go home.”

“Neither do I. But even if only one of us makes it, it’ll be okay.”

“I want it to be both of us in that top 11. Both of us, or neither.”

Taehyun patted his back. Sungwoon went slack in his arms, too tired to talk more about something that could never happen.

“It’ll be okay,” Taehyun repeated.

In his mind though, all he could say was “me, too”.

 

Elimination was going exactly like he suspected. They had already announced ranks 19 to 7, and while Taehyun had faith in himself, he wasn’t cocky enough to expect anything above 15. So he sat back and accepted his probable elimination. Sungwoon, next to him, deflated at every name. By the time they got to the top four, it was easy to predict who they would be.

“Daniel, Jihoon, Jinyoung, Guanlin,” Taehyun whispered.

Sungwoon nodded.

Then the screen lit up and the screaming began. Shock and disbelief settled over the entire studio. There, up on the screen, was Sungwoon. Sungwoon, his best friend, was one of the candidates for first place. Taehyun couldn’t control his hysterical yelling. The other trainees turned in their seats, expressions of awe on their faces.

Taehyun waited with bated breath as Jinyoung got called up for fourth, and then with pride as Sungwoon’s name was called for third. The other trainees were already all standing, ready with their congratulations, but Sungwoon turned to Taehyun first. He gripped his hands tightly.

“That 20th place better be yours, do you hear me? Promise me,” he pleaded frantically.

“I promise,” Taehyun lied.

Sungwoon smiled and turned away from him, moving towards the pyramid.

 

Taehyun could feel Sungwoon’s eyes on him when his name appeared on the screen, next to the number 25.

 

Guanlin ended up 20th, and Taehyun couldn’t help but feel like the change from top 22 to top 20 was simply to create shock. He wondered if it was worth it, he wondered if the producers felt one ounce of guilt when they saw Yongguk’s crying face up on that pedestal. All he felt was anger.

 

He went home alone that night. When Junhyuk opened the door, Taehyun saw his eyes move behind him, as if he expected to see Sungwoon behind him as well. A smile bloomed on his face, but it flitted between proud and sympathetic.

Junhyuk called out for the rest of the members. They crowded around him. It was weird being the only one getting the welcoming, and evidently the others felt the same. When they finally moved into the kitchen for dinner, Taehyun spotted an extra plate and chopsticks next to the sink. Moonkyu made sure to serve him an extra large portion.

“Welcome home,” he said.

 

Taehyun had a thing for teasing Sungwoon. So of course, he couldn’t resist when the day of the finale rolled around and he saw the choreography for “Super Hot” for the first time.

“Why are you here?” Sungwoon groaned.

Taehyun cackled behind him, jumping around.

“I’m main vocal and center, shouldn’t you be congratulating me instead of making a fool out of yourself?”

Taehyun stopped, his giggles subsiding. He looked at Sungwoon fondly.

“I’m very proud of you,” he said, his grin widening almost comically.

Sungwoon scoffed, but he could hear the sincerity behind his words.

 

Taehyun wasn’t surprised when BoA started announcing the final members of Wanna One. He nodded at every name. He wasn’t surprised when Daniel took his seat at the top of the pyramid. He was surprised, however, when he realized there was one spot left and neither Samuel or Jonghyun had been called. He was shocked when they came in 18th and 14th. He turned pale as he realized there were two candidates left, and one of them was Sungwoon.

Taehyun buried his face in his hands and shut his eyes tightly. He prayed. He prayed with every fiber of his being. The minutes dragged on, and his fingers formed fists and turned white.

At this point he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for anymore. If there was any justice in the world, they would call Sungwoon’s name. But if there was someone out there who could interpret his heart’s desires, they would make the other come in twelfth. But that wasn’t fair to Sungwoon, and Taehyun regretted even giving it a thought.

Of course he wanted Sungwoon to win, wasn’t that the whole reason they came on this show in the first place? He had never expected either of them to come this far. He should have been proud. But inside, all he could think about was the fact that he didn’t want to go back to the dorm alone again tonight.

 “The final member of Wanna One is…”

Eighteen months was a very long time.

“Ardor and Able—”

He never thought he’d see Hotshot as five. His eyes were welling up.

“—Ha Sungwoon!”

He didn’t want to say goodbye.

 

After the filming ended, Taehyun changed numbly out of the uniform for the last time. Some of the other trainees crowded around him, comforting him. He gathered up his things and pushed through the crowd. He found Sungwoon, a camera filming him, and hurried to put a smile on his face. He did what was natural, and teased him behind his back.

“Hey,” Sungwoon slapped him lightly after the camera was gone.

“Congratulations,” Taehyun said, “You really made it.”

“Yeah. I did,” the other murmured.

They looked at each other. They had too many things to say and not enough words. And a crowded hallway was hardly the right place for it. Taehyun opened his mouth.

“Do you want to come home to eat—”

“Sungwoon!”

Daehwi was coming towards them, shoving everyone aside in his excitement.

“Come on! We’re going out for dinner. As Wanna One,” he panted, grabbing his hand.

Sungwoon resisted Daehwi’s pull and turned his head back to Taehyun.

“Go,” he said.

His chest hurt.

“Come see me later.”

Sungwoon nodded, a little helplessly, and Taehyun watched the crowd swallow them up, congratulations following them to the door.

 

The members were all waiting for him when he walked through the door. He was alone, and they all waited, not breathing, as if Sungwoon was about to burst through behind him. When he didn’t, they started to yell. Moonkyu collapsed onto their couch, and Hojeong wouldn’t stop cheering.

“Where is he now?” Junhyuk asked, after the excitement had died down.

“Out for dinner with his members,” Taehyun said robotically.

The way he phrased it made his own members glance at each other worriedly.

“Are you okay?” San asked him.

Taehyun rubbed his face.

“Yeah, just… yeah.”

 

Taehyun waited for Sungwoon, even after all the others had gone to bed. He sat in the dark, and listened as the seconds ticked by. Around three, there was a knock at the door, like Sungwoon knew he was still awake and would hear it.

When he opened the door, he was almost surprised to see how normal Sungwoon looked. He didn’t know why he assumed that the younger would change now that he was in Wanna One.

“What are you staring at?” Sungwoon asked, tugging at his sleeves self-consciously.

Taehyun pulled him inside.

“I thought you would look different, after tonight,” he said lowly, “But you still look like you belong here. Like your home is here, with us.”

Sungwoon tugged him towards the couch. They stumbled over each other and fell onto it, legs tangling.

“My home will always be here,” he whispered.

Their eyes found each other in the darkness. Taehyun opened his mouth but stopped when Sungwoon shook his head.

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll talk. Not right now.”

Taehyun nodded and tried to let himself finally relax. Sungwoon’s fingers traced over his ribcage, and he started to hum. Taehyun fell asleep like that, with Sungwoon drawing patterns over his skin and his voice in his ears.

 

“Do you have everything?”

“You can always come back and get it.”

“Please come back to visit us.”

Sungwoon closed the trunk of the van, his luggage safely stowed away, and turned towards his members.

“I will,” he promised.

He looked at each of them in turn. His eyes shined. Automatically, they all surged forward and engulfed him in their arms.

“Swear to me that you’ll keep Hotshot alive,” he implored.

“We swear,” Hojeong exclaimed.

“Thanks to you, now we can,” Junhyuk grinned.

“Yeah, well. It was thanks to Taehyun, too.”

Sungwoon turned to him. The others let go and stepped aside.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You don’t have to be,” Taehyun cocked his head to the side.

“I am anyway.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Wait for me. In eighteen months, I’ll be yours again.”

Taehyun wasn’t sure whether he was talking to him or to the group.

“Go,” Taehyun smiled, “There are people waiting for you.”

Sungwoon bit his lip. He hugged every one of them one last time, and then climbed into the van. As it drove off, he leaned out the open window and waved. They waved back, until the car turned and disappeared down the road.

Junhyuk gently steered them back towards their building. They hooked arms around each other, and San’s familiar weight pressing against him helped ease the ache in his heart.

Eighteen months.

He could wait. He could survive that.


End file.
